


D3L1C4T3 W34P0N

by calcelmo



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Misogyny, Spoilers, Swearing, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo
Summary: "Hold on a second," Johnny says. The sneering, cold edge to his voice makes V want to cringe back, knowing what kind of bastard Johnny can be, but he stands his ground."I don't care if you have no dick. Two dicks. A fucking mantis blade in place of a dick. I don't care if you're a girl or a guy or a goddamned iguana. You think you're something special? You think I never knew a guy with a pussy?"
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 13
Kudos: 327





	D3L1C4T3 W34P0N

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the amount of hits some Cyberpunk fics were getting and I really had to cash in. Couldn't wait. Please leave a comment if you liked it, so I know it was worth taking time away from the game ;)

It’s late when V gets back to Megabuilding 10. He’d been to see Judy, and with his car totaled by the nutty Delamain, the walk to Little China felt like forever. With a lead on Parker, he’d called it a night, and curled up on the couch with cheap takeout that tasted like Kibble and a half-bottle of tequila. Johnny was restless, flitting in and out of eyesight in a dizzying display of his ability to navigate cyberspace. 

Things are as quiet as they get here. V's chewing around a mouthful of pad thai, his nails are making tapping sounds against the screen of his computer. People are cheering outside. If he had to guess, there's a fight going on, one that Coach Fred tried to bill him in. In truth, he's a shitty boxer. He prefers a little more tact. 

Johnny breaks the peace, as he's wont to do, throwing out non-sequiturs as if V is an encyclopedia or a tourbot. This time, it's, "So... why'd you go for a pussy?"

"Huh?" V snaps, irritably, not bothering to look up from his PC, trying to concentrate on the mail he was reading from Misty which came with some kind of old-fashioned file format attached to it that his system couldn’t even run, titled “tarot.docx”. 

"Something wrong with your dick? Female POV braindance addiction got you curious?"

V blinks, turns round to look at Johnny, who's lounging on his bed. It takes him a while to figure out what he's talking about, and he immediately assumes a scowl.

"I was born with it, you fuckin' idiot."

Johnny stares at him, then starts laughing. "Shit. My mistake. Didn't think you ever coulda been a girl."

V smiles back, teeth bared so it's more like a snarl. "I wasn't."

Johnny smirks, but backs off. He points to the cigarettes V caved in and bought that are lying on the coffee table. "Do you mind?"

V glares at him. Still, he's fumbling for the pack before he can stop himself. "’M not smoking in the apartment," he mutters, half to get away from Johnny. But he has no such luck. The engram glitches out off his bed and reappears perching on the balcony wall. 

V lights the cig and takes a drag.

"Preem," Johnny grins, eyes closed, exhaling in relief. "Did I say that right?"

"You're such a fuckin' grandpa."

"I'm getting up to speed. Sifting through your memories, learning the lingo."

V rests his elbows on the balcony wall, so they're side by side, and he's looking out on the bright lights of Night City. He can't imagine them ever fading. Not like he will. 

For some reason, it doesn't bother him that Johnny's been looking through his memories. It's not that he has nothing to hide. Just that, surprisingly enough, he doesn't really mind being known. 

"If you've been through my memories, how come you didn't notice I was trans?" 

"Didn't seem like a big deal to you. It isn't, is it?" 

"No," V answers mildly, taking another drag, letting the Nicot-e™ compound curl its way through his lungs. Johnny had whined and begged for him to get 'the real stuff' and V had said, _I don't want to die of lung cancer before I die from the biochip._

He's not lying. Nomads are real casual about that kind of shit. "Matters of the heart", was what his nonna had called it. You could call yourself whatever you wanted, so long as it ended in Bakkers. 

Of course, V long since abandoned his clan. And at times like these, he started to miss their unconditional acceptance. Night City had its own brand of wokeness, but it was less rooted in love and more driven by sex; the insatiable appetite than pumped through the city's own veins.

As if on cue, Johnny says, "I always wanted to try fucking a shemale." 

V grinds his teeth so hard that he feels something crack. He tosses the cig off the balcony, ignores Johnny's furious objection - _what the fuck, V?_ \- and storms back into his room, rifling through drawers searching for the omega blockers.

"Hey. Hey, stop that. I thought we'd gotten past that stage." 

"Yes," V rounds on him, spitting fury. "We had. Until you started running your mouth about you and your cock and me and my lack of. I knew you were a fucking fossil but this takes the cake." 

"Hold on a second," Johnny says. The sneering, cold edge to his voice makes V want to cringe back, knowing what kind of bastard Johnny can be, but he stands his ground.

"I don't care if you have no dick. Two dicks. A fucking _mantis blade_ in place of a dick. I don't care if you're a girl or a guy or a goddamned iguana. You think you're something special? You think I never knew a guy with a pussy?" 

"You did? 'Cause you're acting like it's some kind of novelty-" 

"Well, no. I didn't," Johnny admits, bristling. "But I really couldn't give less of a shit," he adds indignantly. "I was just making conversation, all right? Sorry I ever fucking bothered with you."

They go silent. Johnny disappears. V shoves the blockers back in the drawer and throws himself angrily into bed, staring up at the ceiling, where neon TV lights play across it. 

He wonders how long he has left. He thinks about Jackie, and then about Judy. How he wants to get to know her, but he doesn’t have enough time. There’s never enough time. 

“You want that girl, huh. Judy.”

V squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he says nothing, Johnny will go away.

Instead, the bed dips. _How did the bed dip?_ He feels like he’s losing his mind, like his brain cells are puddling and leaking out of his ears.

“You’re not very subtle, kid. Your vitals spiked.”

V swallows. “She’s a pretty girl.”

“Were you?”

“Come again?”

“Were you as pretty a girl as you are a boy?”

“Johnny,” V says through gritted teeth, “I can’t stress this enough. Go fuck yourself.”

Unperturbed, Johnny continues taunting. “You say you’re happy with your current build, but what about Judy? You think she’s ever scissored anyone before?”

V’s already halfway out of the bed and on his way to grab the blockers again just to shut him up.

“V, you really need to control your penis envy-”

"Oh, _fuck_ you, asshole. Has it ever occurred to you that I don't _want_ a dick? Just because _you_ were so insecure about your two inch micropenis doesn’t mean everyone is popping off to their local ripperdoc to browse his selection of genital implants-”

_“Two inches?”_

“It was fuckin’ tiny, man, admit it-”

“And now it’s not! You too can experience the wonders of modern technology and _get yourself a penis-”_

“Why are you so obsessed with my junk?!”

“Because you won’t stop thinking about us fucking, and it’s really driving me insane!”

“You- what? I’m _what?!”_

“I see every thought that crosses your mind, kid,” Johnny snaps, sounding genuinely pissed off for the first time.

V scoffs, face heating red. “If you really see ‘every thought that crosses my mind’, you’ll notice that happens with pretty much everyone. They’re called intrusive thoughts, dipshit. Emphasis on the ‘intrusive’.”

Johnny shakes his head, sneering. “I’m sorry, V, I just don’t buy it.”

“Then don’t buy it,” V mutters. “Let me get some rest.”

“Come on, man. You gonna leave us both with blue balls? Figurative blue balls, obviously.”

“Shut up. Please. You killed my _figurative boner_ the minute you opened your mouth.” 

“Your soaking panties suggest otherwise.”

 _“Panties?_ You’re such a freak, you know that? I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t. That’s the funniest thing, my friend. I know exactly how you feel about me.”

“Ugh, so _what?!”_ V explodes, sitting up, yelling at an empty room with the echo static of Johnny glitching out. “There’s nothing that can be done about it. As you keep reminding me, you’re in my head. And you’re gonna stay that way, until it’s _your_ head. So fuck off. Stop tormenting me. I can’t help- I can’t help thinking about things.”

There’s nothing, except for the usual. Gonks yelling outside, bottles smashing. MaxTac sirens way off in the distance. 

Finally, peace.

From behind him, on the bed, Johnny says, “Let me talk to you, while you jerk off.”

V exhales. He digs his nails into his palms till the skin is imprinted with tiny little crescent-shaped marks, and the metal cybernetic remains unmarred. His skin feels too hot and too tight to fit his skeleton, trapping him inside a body that’s not big enough for the both of them.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he says, roughly, but his voice cracks. 

Johnny seems to sense that he’s won. “I’m not, V. Let me do this.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m horny. All you do is think about sex. It’s disturbing.”

“Some of us don’t have groupies on tap, Johnny.”

“No. But you’ve got me.”

It’s sly, triumphant; but the unexpected tenderness at the heart of it shuts V right up. He doesn’t want to fight. He wants to get off. If there’s anything that will take his mind off the fate that creeps closer by the minute, it’s a mind blowing orgasm. And Johnny better fucking deliver.

“Fine,” he mutters, although he realizes that wasn’t necessary. _I see every thought that crosses your mind, kid._

He can’t feel Johnny touch him, but he can feel his approval, and it’s like drinking hot cocoa. Warmth spreads through his chest, till he’s pliant and quiet. He lays back and tugs down his pajama pants, one hand resting between his legs, just able to feel the wet fabric of his boxers that’s starting to dry cold against his skin.

“Gonna let me look, sweetheart?”

“Nothin’ you ain’t seen before,” V tells him, trying to ignore the pet name, failing miserably, and feeling his cunt get slicker. 

Johnny smirks. “Liar. I dug around. Testosterone implant does something to your clit, right? Gives you a little baby-dick?”

“Don’t say that again,” V groans. 

Johnny laughs. “Show me,” he repeats, serious now, with a slight edge to his voice that reassures V he’s not the only one losing himself a little here. 

V exhales slowly, and pushes his underwear down his thighs. 

“Talk to me, then,” he croaks.

“Touch yourself,” Johnny orders. He smiles crookedly. “Wish I could do it for you.”

“Say something that makes me think you’re better than a BD,” V deadpans.

“This is real, kid. Real connection.” 

V closes his eyes. Phantom hands ghost across his chest. He knows they're not really there, but he can't help but shiver. 

"Yeah," Johnny says amiably. "I think it's better if you just keep your mouth shut."

V’s breath catches. His fingers play over his clit, taking it between his thumb and index, pulling the hood back and forth with his hips twitching up into his touch.

"First thing I’m gonna do when I get out of here, V. I’m gonna fuck you real good. Something to thank you for all your sacrifice.”

"What makes you think that's what I want?" 

Johnny laughs, a mean sound, that makes V's painted fingernails curl in the bedsheets, and dip down to rub at his hole, smear the wet over his engorged clit and shudder through an exhalation of relief.

"Did you forget I'm in your head? I know everything you think about. All your dirty little secrets.”

V’s mouth opens and closes around nothing. Johnny managed to turn his anger into arousal as easily as flipping a coin. He gives up, screws his eyes shut and thinks about Johnny’s cock in his mouth and pussy and ass, one hand pawing at his tits, the other wrapped around his neck.

“All of that. I swear,” Johnny murmurs, right close in his ear. “Keep you on my dick for a week. You know that drug? What’s it called? Phallactica, that’s the one. Keeps you hard for hours. We’ll get some of that and I’ll breed you like a fucking dog, V, how does that sound?”

“Oh, Jesus, fucking, Christ,” V gasps out, completely unable to settle on any specific emotional reaction to that little bombshell, and comes harder than he can ever remember, overloading his optics and whiting out his vision. 

The ceiling comes slowly back into view, his hands shaking and inner thighs wet with his slick. Johnny’s silent, but it’s so wrought with self-satisfaction that V has to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“You can’t buy Phallactica any more,” V says blankly. “They took it off the market. Caused infertility.”

“Fuckin’ A, ‘cause I know you don’t really want my kids.”

“I might after that,” V mutters. He tries not to laugh, but Johnny sets him off, the jarring sensation of two sets of voices bouncing around in his internal audio processor. 

He turns his head, finally lets himself meet Johnny’s eyes. “Any good for you?” he asks, lazily.

Johnny just grins, and pretends he’s flicking a strand of neon hair out of V’s face. 

“I meant everything I said. Gotta get me out of here, kid,” he tells him, softly. 

He’s laying back on the bed, weightless, incorporeal, but still the most comfort V’s found since this whole fucking mess started; since he watched Jackie go into critical failure, since the bullet in his head, since he found out his second chance at life was really just a second chance at death.


End file.
